Necessary Actions
by Stranded With Plums
Summary: HG/MM story of sorts. Hermione needs her mentor to show some emotion. Oneshot


I do not nor will I ever own Harry Potter. Wish I did though.

So I decided to do a "Nice Minerva" one-shot. Just taking this for a test drive. Don't know if I'll buy it, but I do like the color green.

Necessary actions

It's in the way she smiles from the inside out that makes you think-_Wow! I would give anything to feel that alive._ She can level a room with just a glance and cause a massive explosion of laughter with a single word. I can see the years of existence here on Earth swirling behind her eyes, penetrating depths that I have yet to experience. My eighteen years pale in comparison to her seventy-plus. We have nothing in common, separated by oceans of pain, suffering, love, betrayal, and loss, yet all differences melt into one blazing goal as we meet in the safe haven of a classroom. Everyone can connect within the confines of learning. Knowledge does not discriminate and can be obtained by all who seek it. This very thought is what comforts me in times like these. I will one day, in fact very soon, have to leave her and go find my own way. It scares the hell out of me to even ponder life without Minerva's guidance. Though we must all grow up to face life on our own two feet, we still find it difficult to summon the confidence needed without the necessary spark. She is my spark. She is my cover and I fear that my skin may be too soft for the liking, but what choice do I have-it's either hide and fail or venture and succeed. Even if I have to choke it down, I will choose the latter.

"Hermione, come and demonstrate the transfiguration of an eagle into a horse," Minerva quietly commands.

What! Damn it all. I am so screwed right about now. Stupid self conversations. I have got to schedule a time when these thoughtful ramblings can take place. Oh, I am doomed I tell ya-doomed!

"Uh, sure-uh, just one moment please!" I shout with more vigor than originally intended.

I can feel numerous snarky eyeballs boring into the back of my head. I admit that I am not prepared in the least to take on the task, which has so delicately been assigned to me. In all honesty, I haven't a clue as to what page we are studying in the book and I know for a fact that my ears haven't picked upon a single word that's been said for the past thirty minutes-I am done for. And, as I stated before, everyone is staring at me, including her. I try desperately to think of anything that could possibly save me from the frightfully embarrassing situation that is about to occur, but all I detect is a room filled with impatient sighs, nervous coughs, and twitching feet. It is in this utter panic-stricken state that I hear _her_ cough-oh, golly, gee, wow...she has joined them in their misery.

"Are you ready Miss Granger," she snaps.

My body stills in all movements, including breathing, as I lift my head to meet her gaze. She wears a cold stare, but I force myself to keep the eye-contact alive.

"Ready Miss Granger," she asks again minus the venom.

"Yes. Ready as ever," I state confidently, but my gait is shaky as I walk towards her awaiting form.

We meet all too soon for my liking, for I am but a waif at this point, a wind-blown bird searching for shelter amongst the trees. My attempts at feigning pitiful ignorance fail me as she slides into a neighboring desk to watch my beautiful collision with humility. Wand in hand, I face the class head-on and concentrate on the eagle beside me. If you could see its face, you would have witnessed sheer terror, for it knew that these could be the last seconds of life here on Earth. I could only hope for an intervention of some kind, but I can tell you that any kind of help was not in the cards for today. I was on my own-sink or swim.

I stand back, albeit fitfully, raise my wand and take one last willful gaze around the room, where my eyes finally come to rest upon the bored face of Minerva McGonagall. Her chin rests within the cradle of her palm as she stares imploringly at my subject. It's now or never-just do it!

The magical words are released from my brain where they are about to make a getaway through my mouth causing my lips to purse in anticipation when the bell rings. My whole body smiles in celebration of my much-needed rescue as I take this opportunity to glide back to my seat. It is almost hideous in nature as I goofily skip towards my domain, shove my books into my bag, and start off for my next class, but the party has begun way too soon. No, she couldn't leave me alone to be with my idiotic grin and childish dancing. No, she simply marched right up behind me and stood there, perched upon some dazzling audacious hope that I would comment on my prior hesitation in class. She about scared the shit out of me. I had no earthly idea that she was awaiting an explanation so when I pulled myself back up into a standing position, I was greeted with a very ill-tempered Minerva.

"You were not paying attention."

This was more of an assessment and not a question, though I did take the opportunity to mask myself in disbelief.

"Of course, I was paying attent..."

"Stop." She raises her hand in defiance, effectively silencing me before adding, "I know you Miss Granger and you were not paying attention..."

"I hate it when you call me that," I say out loud, stopping her dead in her tracks.

That was supposed to be an unvoiced thought, but what can you do when your brain just doesn't feel like following directions today? Nothing-you just grin and bear it.

She doesn't reward me with a "What did you say?" or even a "What?"-just deafening silence, complete with a blank slate for a face. This alone puts me in tears, so imagine a broken girl sobbing, while in the presence of her most-beloved mentor and you can pretty much grasp the concept of agonizing grief. I expect disgust, rage, or even quiet disdain, but I receive none of the above.

Instead, I hear "You're late Miss Granger." No more and no less.

I have been officially humiliated.

(Eleven pm, McGonagall's classroom)

It is with great trepidation that I find myself pacing outside her doors for the second time today. I am not mad with blinding love-no everyone has got it all wrong. It's not love that fuels these passion-filled steps, but rather a need for human contact. Her touch made me feel alive and not just alive, but hopeful, even beautiful. Somehow, she has managed to soak through my skin and flow straight into my heart, causing a surge of emotion to rage forth throughout my body. So, here I stand, hoping that a wave of confidence will crash into my little brain. I just don't want to be alone tonight and the being "alone" isn't what I consider to even be the real issue here-it's just the having to break into pieces all by yourself without a lending hand to aide in your attempts to glue yourself back afterwards. I have always been the aide, but right now I could use a little down time after the horrendous blunder in transfiguration today.

For all it's worth, I think that I'm finally ready to take the plunge-to be vulnerable, but even my scarce knock fails to register within my own ears so I am once again totally unprepared for her floating invitation to come in for a moment. I wrap my girly robe around my freezing form, the chill is getting to me or maybe it's my own undoing that drives my skin to crawl, but neither is important for I walk determinedly down the aisle towards her desk-the rows and rows of students' empty tables form a battle landscape within my peripheral view. They taunt me. Their solid figures stand strong and true as I make the torrential journey towards death-or so I'm thinking, but alas my feet surrender their movements. I am but a tried and tired girl that wants nothing more than to be hidden within the confines of another's embrace-oh, if she would only see that!

"Miss Granger..." she starts, but something passes between us-an unspoken truth of sorts. I cannot fathom why in world my voice has chosen to leave me at this particular moment, but I fight through the pain by asserting plan B-I start to cry.

Now, I am not just letting a few tears fall here and there-no, I am heaving in sob-like rivers that I try without success to stifle. I don't need her pity. I need _her_, but my body is too busy executing my current breakdown, therefore killing any attempt to communicate otherwise-oh joy. My knees are buckling with sorrow and exhaustion, but I'm spinning out of control-taking the wheel is not an option at this point. I am at a loss on what to do next.

_Rescue me! Please, rescue me! Don't leave me!_, my battered mind pleads.

She must have heard me because I find myself being buried within the safety of her robes-my hands and arms are suctioned to her body for fear of rejection and I don't know who initiated the hug, but I sure as hell understand that I am not letting go.

She possessively wraps an arm around my shoulders, nudging me tightly against her body. It is here in her winged-cocoon that I find my flame ignited and as a phoenix rising from the ashes, so does my heart from the depths of despair.

The End


End file.
